Antidisestablishmentarianism
by WolfPilot06
Summary: A fic intended to make good fun of cliches often found in the YnM and other fandoms, with an evil white stuffed elephant and Crayola markers thrown in for good measure.
1. An Atypical Day in Meifu

**Title: **Antidisestablishmentarianism (1?)  
**Author:** WolfPilot06  
**Category:** Fluff, humor, silliness, shonen ai, references to NCS, references to inappropriate usage of stuffed elephants, yaoi  
**Pairings:** Tsuzuki x Hisoka, references to Muraki x Hisoka, Tats + His + Tsu, Wat + Tats, etc…etc…  
**Notes: **Okay, this was not meant to be serious. This is a fic that's trying to make fun of clichés often found in the Yami no Matsuei fandom- and any other fandom, in that case…and it's probably failing miserably. P My writing style differs a bit from fic to fic, so don't expect to find this kind of stuff in my other stories. Not necessarily…er…well, this fic rambles. O.o;; and there seems to be no plot. shrugs Have fun.

And, er…yes, this is my first Yami no Matsuei fic. Beh.

* * *

It was during one of those mysterious lulls in conversation that it was said. A thing so blasphemous, so unexpected, that every head in the office of JuOhCho turned to stare at the speaker.

"Ah, no, that's okay. I don't think I want sweets today." 

Kannubi Wakaba fainted. Terazuma stooped quickly and placed a thick pillow beneath her falling body before she could make contact with the tiled ground, gingerly avoiding the random wisp of her hair that came floating towards him threateningly. Partner or no partner, Terazuma Hajire had no desire to turn into a black-haired, red-eyed raging Shikigami at seven o'clock in the morning.

Tatsumi adjusted his glasses and stared at the speaker in bewilderment.

"What did you say?"

Amethyst eyes blinked innocently as the owner of the orbs gnawed on a celery stick.

"What?

"D-did you just say…that you don't want sweets today, Tsuzuki-san?" Tatsumi inquired faintly. Another coworker- this one male- promptly passed out as Tsuzuki Asato, famed sweets connoisseur and eater of anything remotely edible, nodded.

"Kami-sama! Someone call the rest of the Shinigami in! Tsuzuki-san has been possessed by another demon!" someone screamed, running out of the room. "Aiiee…!"

"I have not been possessed by another demon, thank you very much." Tsuzuki said, frowning in an irritated fashion. "I'm just not in the mood for sweets. What's wrong with that?"

"Ah, Tsuzuki-san…" Tatsumi murmured, still rather shocked by this turn of events. He adjusted his glasses again as they slipped down his nose. "There is the little fact that in your seventy or more years of employment at EnmaCho, you have never turned down an offer of sweets or food."

"There's a first time for everything." Tsuzuki said cheekily, grinning. The secretary of JuOhCho absently noted that there was a piece of celery stuck in Tsuzuki's teeth. Wakaba was slowly regaining consciousness under Terazuma's watchful eye, pitiful groans escaping her lips as she recovered from her fall. She sat up soon, rubbing the back of her head, wide eyes turning towards Tsuzuki.

"Tsuzuki-san," she began hesitantly, "Was I dreaming, or did you just say you didn't want sweets?"

"I said I didn't want sweets," Tsuzuki replied, clearly disturbed by the sudden interest in his refusal of sweets. He blinked several times and tilted his head to the side. "Is it really that novel of an event?

A chorus of "yes" came to him from every corner of the room. He blinked again.

Just then, the door slammed open, and an irate, blond boy stormed into the office, dragging behind him what looked like a large, stuffed elephant

"TSU-ZU-KI!" he yelled, "What…is…_this_?"

He threw the misshapen object at his partner with all the force his slender form could muster, managing to smack the surprised Shinigami in the forehead with the offending animal. Plucking the smiling toy from his chest and rising from his prone position on the ground, Tsuzuki grinned sheepishly at the green-eyed youth, who seemed beside himself with embarrassment and anger, quite resembling a tomato with all his blushing.

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka began again, taking a deep breath to calm himself, though his eyebrow continued to twitch in that way that only he could do. "Why did you feel the need to plant that…that _thing_ outside my house? It scared the crap out of me when I opened my front door to find myself face to face…nose…whatever…with a white elephant this morning!"

"Aw, 'Soka-chan. I thought it was cute!" Tsuzuki nuzzled the stuffed creature to emphasize his point. To his surprise, Hisoka crumpled to the ground, eyes anguished and imploring.

"Tsuzuki…don't you know that I have a traumatic past with elephants?" he whimpered. Slender hands covered his eyes as his shoulders hunched in grief. "I remembered it all when Muraki caught me that first time…I told you about that night under the sakura, but…but I didn't tell you the worst part of it all. He made me…he made me…"

A sob wracked his small body, though he was obviously struggling against his tears. Tsuzuki dropped the elephant and rushed to his young partner's side, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Immediately, Hisoka's tears were forgotten and he shoved at his partner, trying to get away.

"Let go of me, baka!" he yelled, fists beating impotently at the older man's chest.

"No, 'Soka-chan!" Tsuzuki insisted, hugging his struggling charge even more tightly. "You're _suffering_ and I won't let you suffer alone!"

Hands grasped Tsuzuki's shoulders and pulled him back even as he grasped wildly at his almost comatose partner to keep hold of him. Pouting, Tsuzuki looked up into the calm, blue gaze of the secretary of JuOhCho.

"Oh, hiya, Tatsumi." He waved. Tatsumi sighed, placing the amethyst-eyed man safely away from Hisoka, who was currently huddled against the wall in his typical "I-just-got-whelmed-over-by-Tsuzuki-baka's-stupid-emotions-again" pose. The secretary gave Tsuzuki a look.

"Tsuzuki, I would have thought that you'd know better by now than to grab your partner like that." He admonished. Tsuzuki, in full Inu-mode now, drooped, his ears falling flat against his dark hair.

"Aw, but he's just so…_huggable!_"

"_Empathy_, Tsuzuki-san." Tatsumi said severely. Tsuzuki blinked for the umpteenth time that day.

"Oh."

"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka panted, recovering from the empathic attack. Emerald eyes glared ferociously at his partner. "As much as I appreciate your sentiments, and as much as I love the feel of your hands on me, it is _not_ worth the headache that I get every time you touch me!"

He clapped a hand over his mouth, looking horrified. Tsuzuki stared at him and attempted to glomp the poor boy again, but was restrained by Tatsumi once more.

"You _do_ like me! You finally admitted it!" he cheered, still trying to hug his partner.

"I-I did not!"

"Yes you did! You said you like the feel of my hands! That's just the same as saying you love me!" Tsuzuki finally managed to break free of Tatsumi's hands and threw his arms around Hisoka's slender shoulders, causing the teenager to fall to the ground once more. Inu-Tsuzuki happily nuzzled against his partner's chest, ignoring the young Shinigami's protests and subsequent attempts to push him away.

"B-baka! Get off of me!"

"Nngh! No! You smell good!" Tsuzuki protested as Tatsumi and Terazuma forcibly lifted him from Hisoka's chest. The youth sat up, chest heaving for breath.

"Argh! You never let me finish my story, Tsuzuki, you idiot!" Hisoka snapped. Tsuzuki promptly plopped himself down on the ground and clapped his hands in delight.

"Ooh, a story! A story!" he cheered. Tatsumi and Terazuma exchanged a strange look.

"Tell me, Terazuma." Tatsumi whispered, "Did you see Watari-san anywhere near the coffee pot this morning?"

"No, though I wouldn't be surprised if he was." Terazuma hissed back. Nodding sagely, Tatsumi decided to go find the errant blond scientist, leaving poor Hisoka at the mercy of an exuberantly energetic Tsuzuki- who had declined the offer of sweets that morning.

"Now," Hisoka said with an irritated glare at Tsuzuki, "If you'll let me speak…"

The brunette Shinigami nodded eagerly, scooting closer so that he could gaze at his beloved partner all the more. The blonde ignored him and coughed into his hand, obviously preparing himself to recount his "traumatic past".

"As I told you…" he murmured, "It was on that night with the crimson moon, when I was feeling restless, that I ventured outdoors and met the man who would abuse, rape, and murder me. Muraki," he hissed, eyes glinting dangerously, "That evil doctor caught me after I witnessed his murder of a young woman, dragged me to the ground, stripped me of my clothing and, as he took away my innocence, carved into my skin the curse that remains imprinted upon my soul to this very day."

A growl made him look at Tsuzuki, who, astonishingly enough, managed to look both infinitely furious and devastated at the same time. Noticing Hisoka's stare, he gestured for him to go on.

"I was just thinking about how I'd like to kill Muraki." Tsuzuki explained, "After hearing what he did to you…"

Hisoka was touched, and not a little bit confused, as he always was when it came to emotional matters.

"Tsuzuki…"

"I'm thinking that I'll subject him to all the episodes of Teletubbies ever made, then a good thrashing with some wet noodles wielded by fierce Amazon women. After which I'll gleefully turn him over to the makers of Tickle-Me-Elmo.

Everyone within earshot gaped.

"_Tsuzuki-san!_" Wakaba said in astonishment, "Surely that is _too_ cruel a punishment!"

"I think it's fitting, after what he did to me." Hisoka scowled. He cleared his throat and continued. "After he cursed me, though, Muraki was not finished. He…he pulled out his…his _Omocha!_"(1)

There was a collective gasp. Tsuzuki grabbed Hisoka's small hand in his own, clutching the startled boy's appendage to his chest as he gazed at his partner with watery eyes.

"Did…did it _hurt_?" Tsuzuki asked gently. Hisoka returned his gaze with befuddlement.

"What are you talking about, Tsuzuki?" he said, puzzled. "_Omocha_ was a toy elephant."

There was dead silence.

"A…a toy…elephant?"

Hisoka nodded, eyes tearing up once again. Unconsciously, perhaps, he pulled Tsuzuki's hands towards his own chest, his eyebrow doing the twitchy thing that meant he was near to crying.

"And then…then he made his Omocha _t-touch_ me as no toy elephant should ever touch a child!" he cried. He shook his head wildly, releasing Tsuzuki's limb to clutch at the sides of his head with his hands. "It…touched me…_there_."

The last he whispered to Tsuzuki in a shamed voice, pointing to "there" with one trembling finger.

Again, there was silence.

"A-ah…" Tsuzuki looked as if he wanted to comfort Hisoka, but confusion and sympathy warred for dominance over his expressive face. "'Soka? The elephant…it touched you…there?"

And he pointed, too. Hisoka nodded, great tears falling down his face. Tsuzuki tried to pull his partner into another embrace, but the boy bad-temperedly whapped his hands away.

"Quit it! I'm not done angsting yet!" he snapped.

Then he resumed his curled up fetal position, blank green eyes staring sightlessly out the window at the ever-falling sakura petals, oblivious to the startled look Tsuzuki was giving him.

"Terazuma," the man whispered to his rival, "Hisoka's being awfully strange today, don't you think?"

"So are you," Terazuma whispered back, "Tsuzuki-_san_."

"Terazuma-_chan_!"

"Tsuzuki-_san!_"

"_Terazuma-chan!_"(2)

"Will you guys shut up? I'm trying to properly angst over here!

* * *

Tatsumi eyed the two Shinigami over the rim of his glasses, noticing that Hisoka had recovered from his earlier angst bout and was currently trying to finish the case reports stacked on his desk. He looked not a little flustered, and his already noticeable blush deepened every time a coworker even glanced at him. Apparently, Hisoka had not been the only one embarrassed by his uncharacteristic behavior, for Tsuzuki was adamantly refusing to look at his partner, his eyes finding purchase anywhere in the room except for the space directly six feet in front of him, where Hisoka was sitting. Every time his gaze drifted towards Hisoka, a brilliant crimson flush would color his cheeks and he would avert his eyes immediately. 

The secretary cleared his throat loudly and looked pointedly at Hisoka and Tsuzuki as the two started guiltily and turned towards him.

"Ah, Tatsumi-san." Tsuzuki said weakly, a faint smile touching his lips. Hisoka paled slightly.

"Kurosaki-kun." Tatsumi nodded, "Tsuzuki-san. You have a new assignment."

"Already?" Tsuzuki said in dismay, amethyst eyes filled with chagrin. Tatsumi ignored him, handing a case file to Hisoka, who eyed it with some trepidation. What would it be this time? Another Muraki-related murdering spree? Some other madman stalking Tsuzuki or himself? He opened the file and suppressed a groan.

It was worse than anything he had ever imagined.

He and Tsuzuki were receiving a Shinigami recruit.

"This is your new charge. Her name is Hanagawa Keito3; I trust you'll give her a warm welcome and treat her well." Tatsumi looked pointedly at his coworkers and opened the door. A teenage girl blinked at them from beyond the doorway, her short ponytail bobbing as she nervously bowed.

"Nice to meet you," Keito declared, bowing again. Perfunctorily, Hisoka ducked his head, followed by Tsuzuki a moment later, murmuring his agreement and reciprocal feelings. Green eyes then fixed themselves upon the newcomer, face hardening. Tatsumi left, anticipating what Hisoka was going to do next.

"Okay, let's set some ground rules here, first." Hisoka said firmly, setting a slender hand on his hip. Keito looked confused.

"But Tatsumi-san already-"

"No, no, you're a female original character, which means that there are different, _unofficial_ rules that you have to follow." Tsuzuki cheerfully explained, digging through the vast, bottomless pockets of his trench coat as Hisoka nodded in agreement.

"Female original character?"

"Well, you certainly don't make an appearance in the _regular_ series, and you're not mentioned at all in the manga or anime, therefore you must be an original character…" Hisoka demurred, "And since you're obviously female…" he stopped here, looking at Keito anxiously, "You _are_ female, right?"

Keito's face flamed, "Of course I am!"

"Oh, good. Since you're an original character, and you're female, logically that means you're a female original character…"

Keito stared at him.

Tsuzuki cleared his throat, having at last found a battered, tea-stained manual, which appeared to be the fruit of his arduous search. Opening to the first page, he fixed Keito with a stern, purple gaze.

"Here are the rules you must learn. First rule: learn to shield your emotions. If you don't, you'll overwhelm 'Soka-chan whenever he's in the same room with you…"

"-especially if you're one of those female characters with a dark and angsty past and feels the incessant need to constantly brood about it." Hisoka chimed in. Keito blinked.

"I don't have an angsty past."

"Good."

"Second rule: you are not allowed to call Hisoka ''Soka-chan'. Only I, Tsuzuki Asato, am allowed to do that."

"Since when did that rule exist?" Hisoka exclaimed, "I never agreed to that."

"I added it when you were drunk that night. You said it was okay." Tsuzuki grinned cheekily at his partner, who turned an interesting shade of red.

"_What?_"

Tsuzuki ignored the blond boy then, happily turning the page. Keito caught a glimpse of a picture of what seemed to be a large, yellow duck in the manual, and began to wonder just what Tatsumi had been thinking to put her with this obviously insane pair.

"Third rule: if you have a past with Muraki Kazutaka, say it now. We refuse to be surprised when you and that sadistic bastard stop and have a melodramatic conversation in the midst of battle."

"Muraki who?"

"Fourth rule: stay away from both partners. If you in any way develop romantic urges towards one or another, you are not to spread slander or libel about either partner, nor are you allowed to pursue those romantic urges. May Kami-sama help you if you do."

"Fifth rule: there will be no uttering of ominous sounding prophecies. If Hisoka or I are crucial to the fate of the world, we'd prefer to find out about it in a pleasant, easy way, not some thunderous announcement that comes in the midst of an argument or some frighteningly grave discussion over tea."

"Sixth rule: there will be no sacrificing of any main character for obscure reasons, no matter whether it's to save a loved one from a mysterious disease, or to remove the curse that aforementioned Muraki Kazutaka may have placed upon you. If you wish to sacrifice a character, you are not allowed to give any other character a headache through the kidnapping of the former character, nor are you allowed to strike a deal with any mysterious person hiding in the shadows to gain what you wish."

Keito held a hand to her forehead. She was beginning to develop a migraine, but Tsuzuki didn't appear to be nearing the end of the ridiculous rulebook. In the background, Hisoka was absently nodding in agreement with Tsuzuki and scribbling on some form or another.

"Seventh rule: in conjunction with the sixth rule, aforementioned mysterious person hiding in the shadows is not allowed to enter Meifu under any conditions. Unless it would save the of the world…in that case, you may confer with the person in charge before asking to admit the person."

"I do _not_ have dealings with shady characters!" Keito protested. Whatever had possessed her to become a Shinigami? Tsuzuki continued obliviously on.

"Eighth rule: you do _not_ share a mysterious past with Hisoka or myself. If you think you do, then you are obviously imagining things because I have been dead for seventy years, and Hisoka was kept away from people for most of his early life. Unless you are another Shinigami, who through some twist of fate has managed to avoid me for seventy years, or if you are some mysterious visitor who crept into Hisoka's hospital room while he was sick and held probing conversations with him, I refuse to believe that you could share an unknown, touching past with us."

"Ninth rule: if you share any characteristics with either Hisoka or myself, you might as well quit right now. I refuse to have someone around who constantly surprises me with 'Soka-chan-like behavior, and I'm sure that nobody would appreciate having a second me around, as lovable as I am. Tenth rule-"

"Enough!" Keito shouted, leaping to her feet, "I've changed my mind! I don't want to be a Shinigami anymore. I'm telling Tatsumi that I'm going to move on. Ugh, my reasons for staying on aren't enough to be forced to deal with so many ridiculous rules. Have a nice afterlife!"

The two Shinigami stared at the slammed door in shock before turning towards each other. Hisoka blinked.

"I've never felt anyone so annoyed before." Hisoka murmured, returning to his report.

"Eh, well, that's the fourth recruit we've scared away…" Tsuzuki mused, "I hope Tatsumi realizes that we won't tolerate anyone trying to intrude upon our partnership. Geez, you'd think he'd get a clue…"

--

Later that afternoon, Tsuzuki settled comfortably in his chair. He was happy. It was a nice day; the sun was shining as always, blue sky covering the world with her benevolent beauty. Outside the window, pale pink sakura blossoms drifted from the everlasting sakura trees, covering the ground in a soft, rustling carpet, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. He had a cup of french vanilla flavored cappuccino made by Tatsumi- the secretary made the best coffee in Meifu-and a large plate of freshly made dorayaki4. It was a good day to be dead.

Suddenly, the tranquil silence was broken. Tsuzuki nearly fell over backwards as Tatsumi barged into the room, glasses askew and looking angrier than Tsuzuki had ever seen him before- except for once. That had been when Tatsumi had finally come face to face with their archenemy, Muraki. Tsuzuki still trembled at the memory of the expression on his ex-partner's face when he looked at the silver-haired doctor.

"Tsuzuki!" Tatsumi yelled. Tsuzuki blinked, still struggling to regain his balance. Tatsumi _never_ shouted.

Tsuzuki finally managed to right himself and half-rose, placing his hands flat upon his desk.

"What is it, Tatsumi?" he asked anxiously, "Has Watari blown up the lab?" his eyes widened in horror, "He didn't misplace your quarterly reports again, did he?"

The secretary shook his head, secretly a bit miffed that Tsuzuki thought that pieces of paper and a blown up lab were all that he could get so worried about. The amethyst-eyed man didn't seem to realize that Tatsumi worried about him above everything else…though now that special concern had grown to include Hisoka as well. There was just something about the slender, cursed teenager that made Tatsumi want to protect him with everything he had. It might have had something to do with Tsuzuki's undeclared affection for Hisoka. Speaking of Hisoka…

"It's Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi blurted, hand automatically adjusting his glasses. He was angry beyond imagination, but he was also very afraid. "He's been taken by that bastard Muraki again."

"_What?_" Tsuzuki roared. Before Tatsumi could say any more, the violet-eyed man leaped to his feet and was immediately out the door, pulling a messenger fuda out of his pocket as he ran. A few papers fluttered to the ground in his wake. Tatsumi sighed and bent to pick them up.

"I hope you get to him in time, Tsuzuki-san." He whispered, "For your sake…and for Hisoka's as well. Only Kami-sama knows what that bastard will do to him with his _Omocha_ again."

His eyes fell upon the stuffed white elephant lying in the corner. Remembering Hisoka's horrific tale, he shuddered, the smiling animal taking on a menacing air in his mind. Gingerly, he picked up the elephant as if he were handling a pile of dung, wrinkling his nose with distaste until he had safely deposited the object in the waste disposal unit. He brushed his hands together.

"Excellent. Now to find Tsuzuki and Kurosaki-kun."

The door shut behind his marching form and the room fell into silence once more.

Suddenly, a faint shuffling sound came from the garbage can.

A pair of glowing red eyes peeked over the edge.

TBC

Why to be continued? Simply because the insanity has not ended. XD

C&C please!

Wolf

* * *

(1) _Omocha - _toy in Japanese. Eh, I suppose there are possible perverted connotations to the word…especially since we're talking about Muraki here. 

(2) Eh, this is what I got from the translation of that volume with the archery contest. It's noted that Terazuma is insulting Tsuzuki by calling addressing him as "Tsuzuki-san" rather than "sempai". And Tsuzuki returns the insult by calling him "Terazuma-chan". ;

(3) Hanagawa Keito: I made up this name from parts of Japanese last names that I found on these two websites, plus an actual first name. Keito is "Kate", while Hanagawa is my pathetic attempt to say "flower-river". So, Kate Flower-river. O.o;;

(4) dorayaki: pancakes with anko (sweet red bean) filling


	2. Beautiful doll, do you like Crayola?

**Title: **Antidisestablishmentarianism (2?)  
**Author:** WolfPilot06  
**Pairings:** Many and Varied (Mainly Tsuzuki x Hisoka)  
**Category:** Humor, fluff, angst, many clichés made fun of, shonen ai/yaoi, squick, misuse of stuffed elephants, wildly OOC Muraki, mussed up Tatsumi  
**Notes:** Part 2 of the insanity continues! Here we'll have our muse section…Even though this author doesn't really have any muses except Squall and Seifer from Final Fantasy 8 and occasionally Hisoka. D Okay, then…This is the author's Schizophrenic Section!

Wolf::chortles evilly: Bah ha ha, my favorite part…

Tsuzuki::stares at her: And I thought that only Muraki was sadistic enough to actually _enjoy_ this stuff.

Wolf: Oh, no, you're quite safe, Tsuzuki. Only 'Soka-chan needs be subjected to such wonderful torture and angst.

Tsuzuki: That doesn't make me feel better! In fact, that makes me feel worse! And what's with this toy elephant thing? Where exactly did the creepy thing "touch" 'Soka-chan? And that reminds me! Only _I'm_ allowed to call Hisoka "'Soka-chan"!

Wolf: Calm down, Tsuzuki-san. Much will be revealed in this chapter…Mwa ha ha ha ha…

Hisoka: That is, once you let the chapter _start_, you sadistic-

Wolf: Ah-ah-ah…no swearing, Hisoka, unless it's _in_ the fic. Must remember Wolf's rules of propriety.

Hisoka::snorts: Propriety my-

Wolf: HISOKA::frightening glare; holds up Inspiration Duck threateningly:

Hisoka: O.O;;

Wolf:D Alright, beginning fic now! (1)

* * *

Hisoka woke slowly, a dull ache throbbing through his head. Wearily, he tried to reach up to rub at his temples, hoping to massage away his headache and was brought abruptly to attention when he realized that he could not move his hands. Alarm flared in his mind and he began to struggle, finding that his hands were bound high above his head and his legs spread apart and similarly bound. His panic only grew when he found he could not see, though he widened his eyes as much as he could, attempting to see some light. Was he blind? 

A deep, maliciously amused chuckle came from nearby and he turned his head in the direction of the sound, a rush of fear rendering him into a young, weak boy again. He moved his lips, somehow relieved as a small whimper escaped from his mouth; at least he was not mute, but shame came over him at his weakness almost immediately after the sound was made.

"Good morning, little doll." A familiar voice sang softly. Hisoka shuddered as he felt a cool hand caress the side of his face and strained to get away from the cruel touch, pulling against his bonds futilely. A cold blade pressed against his throat suddenly and he froze, swallowing hard and feeling the sharp edge press into his tender skin slightly. Though he no longer feared death, being dead already, he knew that this person possessed power beyond power to hurt him to the extent where he wished he _could_ die.

"Muraki." The name came out as a hiss, hanging in the silent air ominously. The hand caressing his face moved lower, cupping his neck before pressing delicate fingertips to his sharply defined collarbone.

"Beautiful." The man murmured, brushing the back of his hand against Hisoka's skin. A shiver ran through the boy's slight frame at the pure lust and malevolence in the man's voice.

"Muraki," Hisoka repeated, beginning to regain some of his senses and drawing his courage together. Suddenly, an irate frown spread across his forehead. "Hold on, aren't you after Tsuzuki? I thought you got tired of me already."

The hand stilled and he could almost _feel_ the man's irritation. Oh wait, he _could_ feel the man's irritation, being an empath and all. He flinched as Muraki resumed his ministrations, a sound that was half a whimper, half a moan escaping from his lips.

"Oh no. Not at all. I only pretended to, you know…Tsuzuki-san is quite beautiful, but all I _really_ wanted from him was that powerful, regenerating body of his. I wanted to bring Saki back to life, but that wouldn't quite work now that his head's been burned away." He paused briefly, pursing his lips in annoyance, "That was quite unwarranted, in my book."

Hisoka would have stared at him in amazement, had he not been blindfolded.

"W-what?" he managed to sputter, "That's _all_? So what was with the lewd comments? And all those unwanted sexual advances? And…and the 'annoying brat' insults?"

"Oh, those." Muraki sounded almost dismissive, "A cover, nothing more. I wouldn't have been quite as convincing in my pursuits if Tsuzuki-san thought I still wanted you _alive_- well, as alive as you could be- now, would I?"

"You're a sick bastard." Hisoka accused. He felt Muraki's hair brush against the bare skin of his nick languidly as the doctor nodded.

"Yes, I am." Muraki agreed calmly. Hisoka growled and bucked, trying to throw the other man off of his vulnerable body. To his disgust, Muraki only settled more firmly over his stomach and tapped his nose with one finger, his voice mildly amused and mock-scolding. "Now, my beautiful doll, behave yourself."

Hisoka hissed in response, furious at being treated like an insolent puppy. Muraki hummed in response, shifting to the side slightly as he rummaged through the pockets of his discarded coat for some unknown object. The boy flinched as his blindfold was removed, the dim light filtering through broad, stained glass windows too bright for his suddenly sensitive eyes. Blinking several times, Hisoka turned his head, trying to assess his surroundings. There really wasn't all that much to assess. It looked as if they were in an abandoned, dilapidated church, the rotting pews giving off the faint musty odor of mold and decaying wood, draped with layers upon layers of pale dust and fine gossamer filaments of spider webs spun by long-dead arachnids. A majestic cross rose at the head of the aisle, casting a long shadow across the faded red carpeting and tarnished gold candlesticks lined along one wall of the empty cathedral.

Muraki chuckled, the sound almost merry as he trailed something cool and damp down Hisoka's chest in lazy patterns. The boy's breath hitched and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he prepared himself for the inevitable slicing pain.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it, my doll?" the doctor said affably, pretending like he wasn't about to cut Hisoka up into little itty-bitty ribbons. Apparently, Muraki took Hisoka's little whimper as an affirmative answer as he nodded agreeably and continued to trail whatever he was holding along the existing crimson scar lines on Hisoka's exposed torso. "Would you believe that this is almost identical to the church where I first met Tsuzuki-san? It was quite gorgeous that day. I was praying to whatever god resided in that cathedral that I would be able to meet you again. Seems my wish came true, ne?"

Another whimper. Muraki was quite happy at this point and he even rested his chin upon his free hand, propping himself up above his trembling victim, smiling in seeming benevolence down at his captive.

"I was quite touched to learn that you became a Shinigami for my sake, dearest doll. Seems as if I wasn't the only one who enjoyed our little game." Hisoka's eyes snapped open at that, fury burning in their emerald depths as he raised his head to snap out a furious response- and froze.

Instead, when Hisoka finally managed to regain his voice, what came out was, "What are you _doing_?"

Muraki glanced up from where he was gleefully drawing along Hisoka's skin with a bright red Crayola marker.

"Drawing!" he responded cheerfully. Hisoka screeched in rage, bucking wildly, struggling to escape his tormentor.

"You bloody idiot!" Hisoka raged, "Don't you know that takes _forever_ to wash away?" (2)

"But Oriya-san took away my knife." Hisoka shuddered, turning away from the disturbing sight of Muraki _pouting_. "It wouldn't do if the curse marks washed right away, now would it?"

A wail of dismay. "B-but…_Crayola_."

"Hold still, doll, you'll make me color outside the lines."(3)

* * *

Three hours had passed since Kurosaki-kun's mysterious disappearance, and already Tsuzuki was in a full-blown panic, almost tearing out his hair in frustration and ready to call out his Shikigami at the least provocation. Tatsumi had barely been able to keep the violet-eyed Shinigami from blowing up an innocent mailbox that had gotten in his way as they left Muraki's deserted apartment building, receiving more than a few bewildered looks from the bystanders as he locked arms around the struggling Tsuzuki and literally hauled him away from the scene of the mailbox's imminent fulmination4. With the town's best interests in mind, the secretary of JuOhCho set Tsuzuki to doing something a bit more constructive and less destructive than blowing up postal containers. 

Now his ex-partner was sitting on the floor in the middle of the office, sorting through piles and piles of outdated documents and folding an occasional messenger fuda, which he would absently send winging through the window before resuming his arduous search through the mountains of files and records, amethyst eyes tracking down each page rapidly before turning to the next. What he was looking for was Muraki's records, any tantalizing tidbit of information that could possibly lead to the discovery of the silver-haired doctor's location and subsequent annihilation.

Tatsumi had conveniently forgotten to mention the GuShouShin's recently updated computer filing system when he gave Tsuzuki this task.

The shadow master himself was currently trying to organize a kind of counterstrike against Muraki when they found him, trying to avoid the inevitable property destruction and financial backlash were Tsuzuki allowed to take his vengeance against his and Hisoka's chronic (and literal) pain in the ass himself. So far, he had gained as willing soldiers Wakaba, armed to the teeth with all sorts of fuda, Terazuma, pointed ears twitching irritably at having to go after "the kid" with "the idiot", and Watari, bearing with him a fluffy ball of owl and a beaker of unknown substance, though the roiling vomit colored potion did not give Tatsumi any doubts as to the unpleasantness of its supposed purpose. Then again, the one potion long ago that had been a disturbing brown-black color had turned out to be a convenient cure-all for minor hexes and curses. Watari had been quite disappointed in his toffee-flavored concoction; it had been yet another side product in his never-ending quest for a sex-changing potion.

At that moment, as if Tatsumi's thoughts had summoned him, the mad blond scientist himself popped his head through Tatsumi's office door, grinning madly and looking for all the world as if he was about to go off and cause some chaos with his newest batch of sex-changing-potion-wannabe. Idly, the secretary inventoried in his mind what he had eaten that day and ensured, for the sake of his tenuous sanity, that he had gotten all his donuts and coffee from the Krispy Kreme shop in America he loved so much and that Watari had never gone near them. He opened his mouth to speak, blinked at Watari, and changed what he was about to say.

"What in the world are you _wearing?_"

Amber eyes winked mischievously as Watari came all the way into Tatsumi's office to fully display his outfit. Clad in camouflage greens and browns from the tips of his steel-toed boots to the dark jungle-green bandanna nestled amongst the blond locks it was meant to tame, Watari looked as if he was an American soldier just returning from the battlefields in Vietnam- though considerably less scathed and dirty. On one shoulder he toted a heavy-looking machine gun that looked as if it had been subjected to Watari's innovation-via-questionable-mechanical-engineering-skills. Across his chest was strapped an ammunition belt and around his belted waist he carried various and sundry war things. To Tatsumi's bewildered eyes, the scientist looked much more suited to take on the role of Rambo than he was to take on an evil, sadistic doctor by the name of Muraki.

"Do you like it?" Watari gushed, turning around with his arms extended to the side for Tatsumi's observing benefit. Tatsumi only stared at Watari some more, one hand absently rising to push up his glasses, which had slid down his nose with his surprise. The blond fiddled with his ammunition belt and flashed his trademark million-watt grin at the stunned shadow master, 003 swooping around his head for effect. Tatsumi stared again. Even 003 had a tiny green bandanna strapped around his/her/its round head. "Well?"

"Watari-san…" Tatsumi began, pushing up his glasses again. "Are you truly planning to go out wearing…_that?_"

Watari pouted, surveying his outfit sulkily at Tatsumi's less-than-enthusiastic response.

"Well, yeah."

"Would it be terribly rude of me to question your sanity at this point?"

"No, not really." The erratic scientist conceded.

"Alright then. I question your sanity."

Watari gave him a withering look before looking at his clothes again.

"…What's wrong with it?"

"_Everything_, Watari-san. It looks as if you're about to…I don't know, wage war on some third-world country or something."

"Aw, but…I mean, we're going to be fighting Muraki, so I thought…"

"Watari-san, for my sake and for the sake of anyone else in this office, please change." Tatsumi said painfully, adjusting his glasses _again_.

"Oh, okay, but I think you're being awfully unreasonable about this." Watari accused, turning to leave. Tatsumi looked up from the quarterly report he had just picked up, mouth open to respond. His eyes widened.

"Watari-san. Freeze." He whispered, getting up from his desk slowly. Watari immediately stopped, turning slightly to look at Tatsumi in bewilderment. The secretary approached him stealthily, hands spread wide at his sides as he stared intently at something on the blond scientist's back.

"What is it, Tatsumi-san?" Watari asked nervously, "Do I have a 'Kick Me' sign on my back or something?"

Tatsumi shook his head, eyes fixed on whatever it was he was staring at. He crouched, preparing to leap.

"Worse, Watari-san." Tatsumi whispered, "Tell me, how many white, furry inanimate objects do you know that have crimson eyes, a trunk, and the ability to magically come back to life?"

Terazuma Hajire blinked several times as a small white blur ran past his desk, followed by the uncharacteristically mussed secretary of JuOhCho and the resident mad scientist. The unlit cigarette fell from his parted lips as several documents went flying into the air in the wake of the two Shinigamis' passage. A pointed ear twitched slightly in surprise when he realized that Watari was wearing camouflage greens. He shrugged. He'd seen weirder things.

"Catch it, Watari-san! I'll try to herd it towards you!"

"Towards _me?_ Why _me?_ Can't I push it towards _you?_ You're the one with control over shadows!"

"I…er…Just catch it, Watari-san!" Tatsumi's voice was severe as he stood straight, raising one arm as the shadows in the room began to flicker. Terazuma raised himself slightly in his chair as he tried to see just _what_ the other two were trying to "herd". His ear twitched again as it picked up the sound of some unearthly squeaking coming from the corner that Tatsumi and Watari were facing. His eyes widened. No…the only other time he had heard that sound was when "The Kid" had been telling his story in the office earlier today. He got up and walked closer.

"_That thing is _still_ alive?"_

Tatsumi winced as Terazuma's aggravated growl reached his ears. The grumpy former detective's "joined" body with his Shikigami not only allowed him to have unusually acute hearing and inhuman physical traits, but had also blessed him with the ability to growl at a range that simply raked on Tatsumi's eardrums. Keeping his blue eyes trained on the hissing pachyderm backed in the corner, Tatsumi spared a brief nod for Terazuma.

"Evidently, the garbage incinerator wasn't able to destroy it." Tatsumi said distastefully. Watari had picked up a pad of paper from a coworker's desk and was currently scribbling upon it madly, creating, no doubt, another atrocity to bring to life.

"Yeah, either that, or it crawled out before it burned." Watari chimed, the tip of his tongue protruding from between his lips as he concentrated on whatever he was drawing. Tatsumi made a sound of disgust as _Omocha_ pawed at the air and hissed, raising its trunk threateningly. It didn't matter that the elephant was about the size of a teddy bear. Its blood-red eyes were scary enough. And the fact that it had touched The Kid _there_…

"Stand back, Tatsumi-san, Watari-san." Terazuma warned, reaching inside for his Shikigami. He found the beast lurking in his memories of Wakaba and forcibly began to drag the creature out. 'Stupid Kuro.' He thought, 'Maybe this is overkill, but that _thing_ is seriously creepy.'

"Ha ha," he grinned at the white stuffed elephant and began to transform, "You may be able to argue with a garbage incinerator, but try arguing with _this!_"

"Terazuma-san, don't-!"

'Owwie' was the thought that came to mind as Hisoka slowly regained consciousness. His entire body ached from the torture Muraki had inflicted upon it. Dimly, he was aware that his head was tucked beneath someone's arm- Muraki's, no doubt- and that they were still tangled together upon the site of his humiliation. A faint murmur reached his ears and he growled as Muraki reached out and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. He pushed against the doctor's chest futilely, wincing as something sharp dug into his back. Reaching around, Hisoka pulled out the colorful piece of cardboard that had been digging into him painfully, flicking the black arrow in irritation.

"Damnit, Muraki." He hissed, "Couldn't you find a punishment less heinous than this? I wouldn't even mind being called 'doll' and being subjected to whatever sadistic torture your sick mind could come up with if I could avoid playing Twister all night."

"But it's fun, doll." Muraki slurred, tugging Hisoka's smaller form closer. "Sleep now…"

"Let _go_ of me. Your breath stinks."

Hisoka cringed as Muraki pouted again.

"Muraki, don't pout." Hisoka tried again to pull away as Muraki's hand started wandering along his unclothed form. "It really doesn't fit the evil villain image."

"But it makes me all the more loveable." Muraki protested mildly.

"I wasn't aware that you were all that loveable to begin with." Hisoka retorted, then flinched back violently. "Stop touching me _there!_"

"That reminds me…guess who I brought along?"

Hisoka's luminous green eyes widened in fear as Muraki reached for the bag he had previously discarded and began to reach into it. A pale, furry trunk made its appearance. Hisoka paled.

"Oh no…_not Omocha!_"

"Say hello to bouya, _Omocha_." Muraki said cheerfully, presenting the white elephant with a flourish to Hisoka's terrified face.

"_Omocha_'s missed you, my doll." The silver-haired doctor continued maliciously, "Almost as much as I've missed you."

Hisoka whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Tsu…zuki…! Please save me!"5

Meanwhile, in Meifu, Tsuzuki sneezed.

* * *

TBC

* * *

Wolf: O.o;; Is this thing ever going to end? 

Tsuzuki::sulkily: It all depends on you.

Wolf: Stop pouting, Tsuzuki-san! It really looks quite silly on a man of your age.

Tsuzuki::facefaults: I'm not _that_ old!

Wolf: You're something like ninety-six years old, Tsuzuki-san. Even though you look twenty-six, that's still no reason to pout.

Hisoka::glaring at Wolf: This had better end soon.

Wolf::looking thoughtfully at the fic: It seems to have developed a quasi-plot of some kind.

Hisoka: Plot? What plot? All that's going on is Tsuzuki randomly folding messenger fuda and angsting over a pile of documents, me getting tormented by Muraki by a white, stuffed elephant named _Omocha_, Tatsumi, Watari, and Terazuma going ballistic against _Omocha_'s twin sibling, and Muraki acting wildly out of character.

Muraki::goes skipping by wearing a daisy chain:

Hisoka/Tsuzuki/Tatsumi/Watari::massive sweatdrop:

Tsuzuki: _Way_ out of character.

Wolf::evil laughter:

Tsuzuki: So…next time, on Antidisestablishmentarianism!

Hisoka::looking at the as-of-now-unwritten-script: Um. I get tortured more by Muraki.

Tsuzuki::also looking at the nonexistent script: I…go ballistic? Go wildly out of character? Do something completely impossible and actually _get_ my revenge on Muraki?

Hisoka: We can hope.

Tsuzuki: Yeah…so…

Hisoka/Tsuzuki::look at each other for a few moments:

Hisoka::small smile: Are you thinking what _I'm_ thinking, Tsuzuki?

Tsuzuki: Probably, Hisoka. How _do_ they get that chocolate coating on Snickers ice cream bars without melting the ice cream?

Hisoka::sweatdrop: That's not what I was thinking.

Tsuzuki::blinks: Oh? Then what _were_ you thinking of?

Tatsumi::drily: It's time to take over the world?

Hisoka::rolls his eyes: No, I was thinking we could go off and screw like confused rabbits, but I've kind of lost the mood now.

Tsuzuki::blinks: Now _that_ was an out-of-character comment if I ever heard one.(6)

GAH! End!

Wolf

(7)

* * *

(1) If you didn't realize, this is making fun of the endless amount of "muse sections" that a frightening multitude of authors is prone to having. I plan to have one at the end, as well. It was actually kind of hard to pull off; I'm not used to talking to the voices in my head. 

(2) Heheh, okay, so most of you thinking that Crayola markers are easy to wash away…not so. Those supposedly "washable" markers can take up to a week or two to wash away if there's enough of it. Especially those hard-to-wash-away colors like purple. Trust me. I know.

(3) Yeah, so maybe this entire fic isn't only dealing with clichés. Just like Omocha, the Crayola marker is an incident of my own making. I'm allowed to have fun with the characters if I want, right? Including wildly blowing their character out of proportion! (Insert Evil Laughter™)

(4) Thank goodness for thesauruses. Don't usually use them, but my vocabulary is failing me with this cold-stuffed head of mine. Whoot, you learn something new every day. "Fulmination"!

(5) Er, so, well, this is kind of supposed to make fun of the Hisoka in "Hisoka-gets-kidnapped-and-tortured-repeatedly-by-Muraki" stories, in which Hisoka repeatedly cries out in a very pathetic way for "Tsuzuki to come and rescue him". O.o;; It didn't work, as I only put it in once, ne?

(6) It's disturbing. Muse sections grow like tumors…they just keep getting bigger and bigger. O.o;; I got waaayy too into this one. Anywho, yeah, this is addressing those fics that have a muse section at both the beginning _and_ the end of the fic and always are like "Yeah, in the next chapter, this and this'll happen, but now you have to wait, ah ha ha…!"

(7) And what is _with_ these footnotes?


End file.
